


Pyromania

by writelights



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fire, Guilt, Pyromania, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writelights/pseuds/writelights
Summary: Mary Woodhull had always liked fire.





	Pyromania

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maryabolkonskaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryabolkonskaya/gifts).



> I have always liked Mary as a character, so I decided to write about her theme of fire.

Mary Woodhull had always liked fire.

Even as a child, she had played with matches and stayed up late watching the flames in the fireplace. It was comforting, the way they flickered in an endless dance of death. She was aware of the pain it could cause, but also overwhelmed by its simple beauty.

Her hair was a burning red, the color of fire. The curls were uncontrollable and messy and fierce. They made her look much more intimidating than she actually was. After all, she was just a small woman of barely 5’5”.

Mother had always told her not to play with fire, that she would hurt herself. But did she listen? Ha, of course not. Instead of sewing as she was supposed to, she burnt the fabric. She watched it go up in flames with a strange sense of satisfaction. She felt in control, and Mary Woodhull loved to be in control.

She was eleven the first time she burnt herself. The hot coals left a scorch mark along her left palm, a scar that would never go away. A small price to pay for a lifelong love of fire. It still stung occasionally, the skin was still tender. But she’d learned to live with it.

If Mary was fire, Abraham was water. He was a storm, a tsunami. Abe kept her in check, he stopped her from burning everything. But she couldn’t stop him from destroying the world with his thunder and lightning, oh no she couldn’t.

He didn’t have the love that kept her in check. She knew he still loved Anna, and though it was hard, she accepted it. So he didn’t need her as much as she needed him, what does it matter?

But then there was the whole spy thing. It wasn’t okay, Mary was a loyal person. Loyal to her king, her family, her husband. It hurt like hell to know that she was married to a traitor. Who was she to be loyal to? Abe or King George? That was a question she didn’t want to think about, let alone answer.

Thomas was her earth. He was so little, so precious. If Abe kept her calm, Thomas kept her grounded. She couldn’t let anything happen to him. She couldn’t burn him and she couldn’t let Abe drown him. He had to stay stable and beautiful, nothing could could change that.

His namesake had been Mary’s first love. He had been tall and blonde and kind and loyal, yet he was deathly afraid of commitment. Flighty. Air, if you will. Thomas hadn’t been a good match for her, all he did was fuel her fire. But she loved him all the same, and she was devastated when he was killed.

She burnt Abe’s codebook. Honestly, she felt more guilty about that than she did the house. He had loved that book, he had needed that book. And she destroyed it. Even three months later, she still felt as guilty as the day after she did it. She had always been impulsive, even as a child. But she never thought she’d do something like that. The house, well, the could build a new one and for now they were living with Abe’s father. The codebook, however, was irreplaceable, unless of course he could get in contact with the rebels for another one.

The only thing she regretted about burning the house was losing her mother’s ring. It was silver, with rubies inbedded in the sides. She had given it to Mary on her deathbed, had told her not to lose it. And what did Mary do? Exactly that. If her mother was still alive, she would yell at her. She would yell and scream until Mary’s fire burnt her. And then she would cry, because her daughter was a manic.

Mary didn’t believe she was a manic, even though she had been told that by many people. Because she burnt them or she burnt their things. She didn’t mean to, she didn’t want to. She was attracted to the fire, it seemed to call her. And one cannot resist a fire’s call, history has established that.

Maybe that’s why Mary was so good at getting her way. Because they couldn’t resist her call. She didn’t believe that, but it’s more than possible. She was a pretty girl, with flame colored hair and pale skin. An Irish beauty, Thomas had called her. Maybe she killed him, maybe she drove him to get himself shot. Maybe it was all her fault. Maybe she drove Abe to treason.

No. No, no, no, no. She couldn’t think like that, it was bad for her and she knew it. It wasn’t her fault, it couldn’t be her fault. It was Abe’s choices that got him there, nothing more, and most definitely not her. And she also couldn’t be behind Thomas’ death. He chose to fight, he chose to go to that riot. Nothing she did caused him to.

But maybe something did. The thoughts chased each other around and around in her head, no matter how many times she tried to rid herself of them. She wished she could burn herself, burn her mind, burn the thoughts out of her head. But she couldn’t, just like how she couldn’t control anything that had happened in the past few years.

Was it wrong to be angry? Angry at herself, angry at the world for slighting her in such a way. Why did it always have to be her? Why was she the scapegoat, the one the universe always threw its shit at? She didn’t know, she didn’t care, she just wanted it to stop.

Mary wanted to at least feel in control again, that delicious, wonderful feeling she loved. It wasn’t that she needed to be in control, she just liked to be. She liked it a lot, a hell of a lot more than she cared to admit. One can only go so long without enjoying something they liked, loved even. She felt like she was going crazy, but maybe she already was.

Or maybe it was just the fire within her.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, especially you, Lydia.  
> I know we don't talk, but I know you love Mary and I like you as a person.


End file.
